


i'll follow you into the dark

by lostmemoria



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: After the doctors/eichen house, Confiding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Mentions of Trauma/PTSD, Sad with a somewhat happy ending, Takes place Post s5, Vulnerable!Lydia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 23:15:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4411652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostmemoria/pseuds/lostmemoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His apartment is the only one in the building with all the lights on at even two in the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll follow you into the dark

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by this [headcanon.](http://lydiasdeputy.tumblr.com/post/114080140047/marrish-headcanon-i-need-to-share-when-they-live)
> 
> this was suppose to come out all nice and fluffy but my fingers really have a mind of their own and I ended up writing this hurt type sort of fic instead and honestly i'm not so proud of it but i've been working on it for a few days now and it's physically exhausted me so here it is and i hope you guys like it anyways.
> 
> i don't know much about ptsd and i've never met anyone with ptsd but i took some time to research and read about it, so i hope the brief inferences i made to it are alright.
> 
> title from the same song by death cab for cutie

_Love of mine, some day you will die_  
_But I'll be close behind_  
_I'll follow you into the dark_  
_No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white_  
_Just our hands clasped so tight_  
_Waiting for the hint of a spark_

 

His apartment is the only one in the building with all the lights on at even two in the morning.  
  
To anyone else, they would probably get angry seeing their electrical bill jump up to over a hundred dollars at the end of the month, but Jordan isn’t like anyone else. When he enters his apartment after a long night shift, the first thing he does isn’t put his gun away in his safe or get out of his uniform, or even turn off all the lights in this case.

The first thing he does is go to her.

And even though his apartment is tiny and not the most spacious place around, he always knows exactly where she is. He thinks it’s because of their supernatural connection, the fact that he’s life and she’s death and that they’re inexplicably drawn to each other like Deaton said. But sometimes, Jordan thinks even if they weren’t supernatural creatures, even if Beacon Hills didn’t exist, even if the Nemeton was really just a regular tree stump and he and Lydia lived in a normal city, maybe Sierra Vista—not too warm, not too cold—he would still be drawn to her.  
  
His feet and his heart lead him to the hallway connecting the slightly messy living room to their bedroom and he finds her curled up on the window seat, asleep. The hallway light is on as well, the bright light illuminating Lydia’s peaceful facial features while making her fiery red tresses look like flames, and they’re the only flames he would willingly tangle his fingers into. He smiles gently and leans down, letting his hand find hers as he softly twines his fingers with hers.  
  
It’s become a habit for her to do this, to wait for him to come home, to keep all the lights on as day turns into night, and although she’ll never admit to anyone that the darkness frightens her—Jordan already knows her fears are justified, especially after everything she’s been through. Sometimes, she’ll wake up in the middle of the night screaming, and it won’t be because of dead bodies. And every time it happens, he will up and pull her close, hold her until she stops trembling in his arms, hold her until the horrible demons in her mind and soul have calmed down, because even he knows that there’s a possibility that she might never find peace again, but the least he can do is take the pain away as much as he can.

Even if it’s only temporary, he’ll do it over and over again if he has to.

It’s been six months since Eichen house. Six months since what the dread doctors did to her. He tries not to think about it, he really does, but it comes to him anyways in bits and pieces. First, he’ll remember the dim hallways of Eichen, the roar of thunder in the background from outside, and then the sound of Scott and Kira following behind him before the full image comes to him, burning in his mind like hot flashes.

Lydia lying half unconscious on a bed, her wrists and ankles tied to it, her hair soaking wet and sticking to her expressionless face, her hazel eyes wide and empty, staring into a void. He remembers burning through the restraints with just a touch of his hand and scooping her up in his arms, repeatedly saying her name. _Lyds, it’s me. Jordan. I’m here for you, nothing’s going to happen to you. I won’t let anyone hurt you._

He remembers not getting a response from her catatonic state, not getting a response for days. Weeks. He remembers sitting by her bedside, thumb stroking smooth circles into her palm as he talked to her about anything and everything. Sometimes, her mother would come in just to check on _them_ , because Jordan would forget about time and find himself sitting there for hours by her almost lifeless body. Her mother use to question it at first, not to him directly but he could see it on her face whenever he came to visit the first few times, but it didn’t take long for her to realize that there must be something between them, something she isn’t aware about just yet but knew was important, because why else would this strange deputy risk his life to save her daughter?

And he was sure that by the sixth visit, she knew why.  
  
It took twenty eight days—three weeks for Lydia to come back to him, but to him it felt more like three years. Maybe even more.

She woke up when he told her he loved her.

When he told her that he missed her, that everyone missed her, that he’ll always keep her safe. _I’ll follow you into the dark, because I love you_ , he had said, hand clutching hers desperately and it was only then that he finally saw her blink. Finally saw her move, finally saw her look at him for the first time in weeks. And when she opened her mouth to speak, only one word left her lips.

_Cold._

It was a quiet, barely audible breath on her behalf, but Jordan understood, and he pulled her into his arms and held her until she no longer felt cold anymore.  
  
At first, he thought that she never heard what he said but then three months and many dates later, he said it again while she was lying on his bed only wearing his shirt, and she smiled at him, that brilliant smile that he loves so much and whispered against his lips, _I know._

He says it to her everyday now, because his love for her might be endless—he might be endless, but she isn’t.  
  
Jordan gently brings her hand up to his lips, pressing kisses against her fingertips as he murmurs once more, “I’ll follow you into the dark, to the ends of the universe if I have to. I’ll always keep you safe. _Always._ ”

His words make her move slightly, shift her body towards him as her eyes flutter open tiredly. And when she finally sees him, a small smile flits across her lips. “You’re home.”

He squeezes her hand and smiles back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”  
  
She brushes his cheek with her other hand gently and he can’t help but lean into her touch. “Don’t be,” she whispers. “How was the night shift?” She has a teasing smile on her face as she turns, resting her head on her arm as her fingers play with his.  
  
He rolls his eyes because she knows how much he hates night shifts, yet all Sheriff seems to be giving him is the _night duty_ , and it’s a little frustrating since he’s isolated from most of the main action and stuck at the desk answering prank calls or noise complaints, which is all very dull and boring to him. But most importantly, he hates night shifts because it means he can’t be here _with her._

“What about you?” He asks after finishing up his unexciting story of how a drunk underage teenager threw up on him when he tried to clear out a party.  
  
She glances down at her notebook which seemed to have dropped to the floor when she fell asleep. Jordan sees the almost illegible scribbles of numbers and equations across the paper as he hands it back to her. “Well, I actually got _somewhere_ with this equation,” she tells him, talking about one of the unsolvable math equations that she’s been working on for the past few years in order to get her Field’s medal. She’s only picked back up on it recently, after her cognitive therapist told her that it would be a good idea for her to do so, _to try and get back into routine._ “I was actually super close to solving a part of it before I fell asleep.” She reaches for the pen then to go back to working on it, but Jordan gently stops her, knowing that she’s trying her best not to fall asleep again, trying her best to avoid the possibility of facing her worst nightmares all over again.  
  
But at the same time, he knows she _needs_ to sleep. “Hey, that equation can wait until tomorrow,” he tells her softly as he places the pen and notebook aside, away from her reach. “Wouldn’t want to burn out that brilliant brain of yours.”

She frowns. “I’m not tired, I just—” She’s interrupted when a yawn escapes her lips and Jordan can’t resist the grin that crosses his features.

“You were saying?”

“Shut up.” She says it with a scowl but then the next second she’s reaching for him and he’s smiling and scooping her up in his arms easily, carrying her back to their room while turning off all the lights along the way and double checking the locks just for her comfort. And as the apartment starts to flood with more and more darkness, his eyes start to blaze their orange-red glow just for her sake. “The light in my darkness,” he hears her murmur as she rests her head against his shoulder.  
  
It takes him slightly by surprise because it’s the first time she’s said something like that to him, and when he lays her down on the bed, he leans down and gives her a kiss on the head. “And you’re the light in mine."

That takes her by surprise too, because he's sure no one has ever told her that before, that despite being an omen of death, she is the brightest light in his life. But then a smile is curving on her lips again and she's gently tugging him down next to her, but Jordan resists.

"Did you take your medications first?" He asks, opening up one of the bedside drawers where her meds are.

She groans. "I don't need them. I haven't had any nightmares in a while now."

It's true. The last time she had one, it was of sophomore winter formal with Peter mauling her. Sometimes it's not always the doctors she has dreams about, sometimes it's Peter or Tracy or losing Allison at Oak Creek all over again. And sometimes, he doesn't even know what it is  because she'll be shaking too much to even try and form words, so Jordan will whisper to her to count to ten with him in order to ground herself once more.

And after ten, when she's finally regained control of her breathing, he'll kiss her face and whisper sweet things in her ear until she falls asleep again

"Are you sure?" He asks, and when he sees her nod, he doesn’t try and force her because he knows that she knows what’s best for her. Instead, he puts the Prazosin pills back in the drawer before closing it and finally joining her on the bed and wrapping his arms around her.

They lay like that in the silence of the darkness, Jordan’s fingers stroking through her hair softly as she buries her face into his chest, and after a while he thinks she’s fallen asleep but then she quietly speaks again.

“I got accepted into Stanford.”

His fingers stop stroking and he looks at her, mostly surprised by her suddenly saying it and not by the fact that she got accepted, because he knew she was going to get in, especially since she already got into most of the colleges she applied to. “Wow, that’s great. That’s your number one choice isn’t it?” Lydia nods, and even through the darkness he can make out the hesitation that crosses her expression. A hesitation he probably wouldn’t have seen nearly a year ago. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” He asks, worriedly.

“Yeah...everything’s fine,” Lydia starts, fingers trailing circles across his shirt clad chest. “It’s just...I want to feel excited, I really do, but I can’t. I can’t even if I try to. All I feel is...trapped. In my body, in my mind. It’s like I’m trapped in a room and no one can hear me scream, it’s like I know deep inside my bones that someone’s going to hurt me all over again...It’s like feeling I’m never safe. That I can never take a full breath of air in my lungs or that I’m walking barefoot over glass, not knowing when it’s going to shatter underneath me. I-I can’t, Jordan, I can’t stop it. I don’t want to feel like this...I don’t—” She stops then, unable to say anymore as her fingers grasp his shirt now while trying to hold back tears, and Jordan pulls her closer, holds her tighter in his arms as he presses a kiss against her head.  
  
“Hey, shhh...I’m here for you,” he whispers, rubbing her back soothingly. “You’ll get through this, I know you will. I believe in you so much, you know that right?”

“I know. I just...don’t know if I believe in _myself_ enough to get through this,” she says, and it breaks Jordan to hear her say that as she uses his shirt to wipe her tears away before they slowly fall into silence again.

It makes him start to think though, think about the suggestion that has been running through his mind for the past month. “What if…I came with you? To Stanford?” The words leave him quietly, almost unsure because he doesn’t want to impose just in case the idea doesn’t sit well with her.

But then Lydia looks up at him, and he sees a certain glimmer in her eyes as she looks at him with a slightly surprised expression. “You’ve...thought about this before?”  
  
He nods slowly, his hand going up to cup her face softly. “We could rent an apartment around the area, I can transfer to the police station over there…” He smiles, “maybe we could bring Prada along too. I...I want to be there for you...Only if you want, that is.” He can’t read the expression on her face and when she doesn’t say anything in response, he tries to apologize, “I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have said that so suddenly—”  
  
“No,” Lydia quickly interrupts, her hand reaching out to touch his cheek, stopping him from apologizing any further. “I’d...like that. A lot.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
She nods, small smile finally reaching her lips. “I wouldn’t want it any other way, in fact.”  
  
He’s the one smiling now, a grin too big for his face as he gently tilts her chin up and presses his lips against hers in a chaste kiss, because all he wants is for her to be happy, and if it means letting go of everything just for her, he would do it in a heartbeat.

“I love you,” he finds himself whispering against her lips when they pull away, his eyes a slight glint of orange as he meets her gaze.  
  
“ _I know_ ,” she replies back softly, her warm breath hitting his lips. “I love you too.” And then she leans in and kisses him again, and again, and they keep kissing until their lips grow tired and their lungs are out of air.

Her hand finds his under the covers then, letting his fingers slide perfectly into the spaces between her digits, and they fall asleep together like that, with life and death intertwined so tightly together that nothing can break them apart.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://lydiasdeputy.tumblr.com)


End file.
